A Tale of Emerald Eyes and Winter Flowers
by LonDon323
Summary: AU - And all she wanted was to paint his magnificent eyes, but what she got was a whole lot more.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: I think Ulquiorra and Orihime deserve a happy ending. I'm just going to forget about what happened in the series. Tite Kubo is in insane for killing off Ulquiorra and making Orihime marry Ichigo. Like come on. UlquiHime for the win. - Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its character.

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[Chapter One]

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Orihime stares at her laptop screen. This weekend is the add/drop period and she really wants to switch her complimentary class. It is currently Chemistry, a subject way out of her field. She drums her fingers along her desk. There are only two classes she can choose from, calculus and programming. Anyone who knows Orihime Inoue is aware of the fact that she is incapable of even uttering the work math let alone solve an equation.

She sighs. Programming it is.

"So what did you choose?" Rangiku asks from her bed. She is lying on her stomach, legs up, phone in hand, probably texting Gin.

"Programming," Orihime answers her roommate. She selects the confirm button and pushes away from her desk. She closes her eyes, leaning back, exhausted. "It was that or calculus."

"Awe really? None of the design classes were available?"

"No."

"And here I was looking forward to helping you out." Rangiku pouts, resting her chin on her hands. "You would have made a great pupil."

Orihime chuckles. She would have been able to snatch a design class, but she was away during the winter break and couldn't complete her schedule fast enough. All the seats had been filled before she had a chance.

"I don't know a thing about programming," Orihime says, groaning. "I hope it isn't too hard."

"Do we know anyone who's in computer science?" Rangiku wonders, humming in thought.

Orihime purses her lips.

Nelliel is in fine arts with her. Rangiku is taking interior design. Tatsuki is in law… Uryu? No. He's also in law. Sado? He's in nursing with Momo Hinamori. Orihime puts a finger to her lips. Rukia is in chemistry with Ichigo. She bites the inside of her cheek. She isn't sure if she knows anyone who has chosen a path in the technological field. None of her friends are necessarily tech-geeks. Although, Renji and Grimmjow do like playing video games, but that doesn't count.

She will have to survive her complimentary class on her own. Whether in sickness or in health she will try her best. No matter what Orihime always puts one hundred and ten percent into everything she does. She nods. She can do it, she knows she can, and even if she has difficulty, she can always ask her teacher for help, or another student. She's positive at least one person will know what they're doing.

OoOoOoOoOoO

When she walks into her programming class, she is surprised to see that every desk is equipped with a computer. After spending so much time in the painting and drawing studios, classes like these seem alien to her. It's so futuristic, like she's stepped into another dimension.

The room is deserted, but she's not surprised.

She made sure to come extra early (thirty minutes early) because she was feeling nervous, and she wanted to get a good seat, preferably one in the front of the class.

She glances around before walking to the first row. She peeks her head in the isle about to decipher which seat would be the best, but freezes. Her mouth parts. Someone is there. A boy.

Orihime blinks. He is staring, quite intently, at his computer, typing away a list of codes she cannot even begin to fathom. He seems to know what he's doing. He's typing so fast, not once pressing the backspace key. She watches, amazed, as if he were from another planet.

This is her chance. Sitting beside a genius like him would be perfect. What a coincidence! And just when she was losing hope. She smiles. He can help her throughout the semester, considering she has no knowledge of programming whatsoever. He can answer any questions she may have. Orihime is set and ready to ace this class.

She hopes he's nice.

Skipping to the boy's side, she plops herself down in the seat beside his. She notices that he is wearing a crisp shirt tucked into ironed jeans. His shoes are tied in a calculated knot, and his socks are grey. She wonders if he comes from a rich family. His clothes are completely spotless.

She drops her bag on her lap, her long green skirt wrinkling beneath it. There is paint on her sweater and charcoal lines on her sneakers, but she doesn't mind. They are the marks of a true artist.

"Hi," she says, a glowing smile on her face, "my name is Orihime Inoue."

He doesn't answer her, his fingers typing codes at an intimidating speed.

"I'm in the Fine Arts program, what about you?"

He ignores her. Orihime almost frowns, but forces herself not to give up just yet.

"Hm," she hums, leaning back in her chair, thinking. "Let me guess…" She pauses. "Are you in biology, or maybe math? Law? You kinda look like someone who's in a really tough program. Oh! Psychology? That's pretty hard. I heard that only a handful of students actually graduate with a mark above seventy percent. Isn't that crazy? And here I though psychology wouldn't be too challenging. You know, I have a friend who knows a guy who's friends with this other guy, I think you've heard of him, his name is Sousuke Aizen, and he's in psychology. Apparently he's the top student in the entire school. Quite impressive isn't it? I wonder what he looks like, I haven't really seen him around school or maybe I have but because I don't know what he looks like I just haven't noticed—"

"Woman," the boy says, cutting her off. He looks away from the screen, a deep frown on his face. Orihime, alarmed that he called her woman, the nerve, has a hard time holding back her gasp when he meets her gaze. His eyes are absolutely beautiful. "Stop talking to me." He stares back at his computer, fingers pressing down on the keyboard.

That was rude. Very rude. No one has ever said something so cold and heartless to her before. But. His eyes. How can they be so magnificent? Her mouth is open, gaping at the fact that, one: he totally shot her down, and two: his irises are green, amazingly green. Orihime's hands twitch. She wants to paint them. She has to paint them. She has some paint in her bag right now, but it would be irresponsible to take them out with all these wires lingering about. Maybe she can ask him if — wait! She completely forgot about her drawing assignment! He would be the perfect model.

Orihime's glows.

She has finally found someone to be her model. However, she watches the serious expression on his face and the way his brows furrow. Her lips fall into a line. After what he said to her, he isn't the kindest of students she has come across. Maybe he's just introverted? Orihime is one of the friendliest people in the entire college, she is positive she will be able to get him to warm up to her. Somehow.

"So," Orihime speaks up. "What's your name?" She loses a bit of hope when he flat out ignores her, again. No. She is stronger than this. She will prevail. "Does your name start with the letter A?" He doesn't say anything; still typing away as if it's the only thing he knows. "Is your name Akira? Akashi? Atsushi? Atsushi is a nice name. I wish I had a pet with that name, maybe a dog, or a rabbit. I've always wanted a rabbit but my brother kept telling me he was allergic. I think he was lying, though. He just didn't want to have a rabbit running around our house. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Does your name start with the letter B? You know, I can't really think of anything that start with—"

"I do not have any interest in speaking with you," the boy states, eyes never leaving the screen. "So stop your foolish rambling and mind your own business."

His words slice through Orihime's skin like a knife. She swallows. Maybe he's been having a bad day? She awkwardly turns in her chair fiddling with the paint and pencils in her bag. She'll try getting to know him another time, during their next class maybe?

OoOoOoOoOoO

Orihime flops onto her bed. She whimpers.

"What's wrong?" Rangiku asks, frowning from her desk. "Did something happen?"

"I met this guy—"

"You did?!" her roommate exclaims, bouncing off her seat. "Is he handsome? Smart? Funny? Shy? Cute?" The woman lands on Orihime's bed, her mattress creaking.

"No nothing like that," Orihime says, her voice muffled by her pillow. "He was so mean." Orihime frowns, remembering the way he looked at her. With one glance it was as if he turned her into ice. "And he was rude. He didn't bother answering any of my questions during class. I was so lost. I had no idea what the teacher was saying."

Rangiku rubs the girl's back.

"Don't let that guy get you down," she says, smiling down at her friend. "I bet you can soften up that guy's heart. If he even has one."

Orihime sighs. Just her luck, she finally finds someone who she really really wants to draw for her assignment, who is a born master at coding, but ends up being an insensitive, uncaring robot. Orihime believes in second chances though. She knows everyone, deep down, has a heart. And, setting aside the drawing assignment for a moment and the fact that she desperately needs help with coding, she would give anything to paint his eyes. They are incredible. Not even to get marks or a good grade. She just needs to paint them. It's her duty as an artist, no, as a human being. It is her duty as a human being to paint his mesmerizing eyes, to bring them to life on canvas. Somehow, someway she will persuade him. She will. She knows she can.

"What's his name?" Rangiku asks.

Orihime pauses. She has no idea. This will be the first barrier to break she supposes: learning the green-eyed boy's name.


	2. Chapter 2

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[Chapter Two]

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Orihime sprints up the stairs of the Science building. She must be early, she can't be late, if she's late, she won't be able to grab the seat beside that boy. Her hair is falling out of her clips and her clothes are disheveled, but she doesn't care. Appearances are not important right now. She heaves for air once she reaches the top floor. Why is the elevator always broken? She rests her hands on her knees for a moment, sweat leaking down her temple.

With as much strength she can muster up, she pushes forward down the hall.

It's barely eight in the morning. Her programming class starts in thirty five minutes. She adjusts her bag when it tries to slide off her shoulder. She had stayed up until two in the morning, painting and painting, attempting to capture the same colour as the boy's eyes. But no matter how many different combinations of blue and yellow she mixed, she could not get it right.

Orihime collides against the frame of the computer lab door. She knows she has bags under her eyes and that she's a bit pale, but once this class is over, she will take a nap, a long five-hour nap.

She struts to the front row, glad to see that the same guy is sitting in his spot from the other day. She slides the chair back and sits down, dropping her bag on the table. He doesn't look at her. His gaze remains on the computer screen as his fingers type away codes and codes and more lines of code. She wonders what time he got here. It seems like he's been going at it for a while.

"Hello," she greets, not surprised when he doesn't answer. She pauses, not sure if he can even hear her. He's so focused. "I've been curious about what your name is." He doesn't flinch. "I even checked the class list but I have no idea which name is yours. There are just so many guys, you know? And I'm not really good at guessing." She bites her lip. She has never met someone so hostile before. It's making her anxious. "I don't know if you remember, but my name is Orihime Inoue and I'm in the F—"

"Fine Arts program," he cuts her off, eyes glued to the screen, "yes I am aware, you had made this clear to me during the previous class."

Orihime's heart jumps. She made him talk! She totally thought he would ignore her again. A bright smile curls her lips. She is taking baby steps, but good things come to those who are patient.

"Yes you're right," she says, bouncing in her seat, "but you haven't told me your name or what program—"

"I am in the Computer Science program and my name is Ulquiorra Schiffer, now stop pestering me, woman."

Orihime can feel a vein pop.

Woman. Doesn't he know calling someone woman is utterly unacceptable? He remembers her name so he should use it! It's Orihime Inoue, not woman. She wants to smack him, but doesn't, obviously. Orihime takes a moment to collect her thoughts. She won't lose her resolve. She won't loose sight of her goal. She lets out a quiet breath. Ulquiorra Schiffer. She finally knows his name. The first barrier is broken, and he's into computers too. Bam, another crack in the wall. Although, she should have guessed that already, considering the fact that he has a talent for coding.

He's wearing the same outfit as last time, safe for the colour of his socks. Today they're white.

He's put together, she can say that much. But in Orihime's perspective, his choice of clothing is too bland. He should switch the white shirt with a green one, it would compliment his eyes better.

OoOoOoOoOoO

It has been too weeks since Orihime switched into her programming class and she still has no idea what is going on.

Her teacher, Mr. Tousen, is talking a mile a minute about buttons, labels, codes, forms, texts and what-not, all things that mean nothing to her, but is expected to understand what they mean. It's like a foreign language. Gibberish. The only thing Orihime understands is that she doesn't understand. Anything. She wishes she could pull out her sketchbook, draw a picture perfect sketch of her computer and hand it in instead.

"Now just de-bug your code and see if your button works," Mr. Tousen says, walking to his computer to test out the program, as an example to the class. The teacher's work is projected onto the wall, but Orihime doesn't know what he's been doing for the past thirty minutes.

Orihime bites her lip. Her nerves are getting the best of her. Everyone is ten steps ahead, no, one hundred steps ahead! She still hasn't named anything. She was supposed to have labeled all her buttons a long time ago. What should she do? It's been like this every single class. And the teacher is too busy helping out the students in the back to ever reach her. She groans. This is not how she envisioned things.

She hears Ulquiorra sigh. She glances at him and is confused when she realizes he is looking at her.

"Move over," he orders, face as cold as ever. She leans back, amazed when he fumbles around her computer for a good three seconds before moving back to his own. He helped her. And she didn't even ask. She stares at him, unable to comprehend what his actions could mean. Has he declared a truce? Maybe he has somewhat accepted her and is willing to be her acquaintance? His brows furrow more than usual when she doesn't look away. "Stop distracting yourself and get back to work."

"Thanks for helping me," Orihime says, a smile on her face.

"I did not help you," he tells her, frowning at his screen. "You were shuffling around like a child. It was aggravating, so I did the only thing that would stop your foolish antics." She chuckles. Her laugh causes Ulquiorra to glare, displeased. "Why are you laughing, woman?" She gives him a look.

"Oh come on," she says, amusement in her voice. "You're just saying that because you don't want to admit you helped me. You're shy, aren't you?"

He stiffens, offended by her statement.

"Do not be ridiculous," he says. He darts his eyes away and continues to type codes far more complex than the one's Mr. Tousen is teaching.

Orihime can't help but smile, her heart fluttering in her chest. Even though Ulquiorra is rude and insensitive, she thinks she will be able to get closer to him, albeit slowly, but closer nonetheless. And one day, hopefully before her drawing assignment is due, she will persuade him into being her partner. He would make a lovely model. She is one hundred percent positive about that.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Orihime paces outside of her dorm room.

Where is she? That girl. She always makes her worry. Orihime checks her phone. It's already twenty minutes past four, in the morning. She bites the inside of her cheek, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. Orihime is aware that her roommate, Rangiku Matsumoto, is a party girl, but come on. She cares about her friend. And telling Orihime that she'll be attending a party, on a school night of all nights, saying that she shouldn't worry, will make her worry.

The door across the hall opens the slightest bit. Two teal-coloured eyes peek through.

"Orihime?" Nelliel says, voice raspy and slow. "What are you doing up so late?"

Orihime stops her pacing and sulks.

"I'm waiting for Rangiku," she explains.

"Party?"

"Yeah."

Orihime has known Rangiku for a long time and is accustomed to the girl's love for alcohol. She just hopes Rangiku doesn't do something stupid. An early funeral isn't something Orihime wants to think about.

There is a loud thud from down the hall. Nelliel sticks her head out, alarmed as Orihime snaps her gaze in its direction. Rangiku is lying on the ground, completely passed out. Her hair is a volcano of a mess and her skin-tight dress is crumpled and un-kept. Her shoes are also missing. Weird.

Orihime and Nelliel tiptoe down the hall. Both girls heave Rangiku up from the cold floor, lifting her arms over each other's shoulders. As they make their way towards Orihime's room, Rangiku's feet drag, and she hiccups. Her face is flushed and her makeup is smudged, the sent of vodka spills out of her mouth making both girls cringe.

Once Rangiku is tucked in bed, makeup cleaned off, Orihime thanks Nelliel as the girl leaves for her room.

Orihime's eyes snap open. She checks the clock sitting on her nightstand and forgets to breath. It's eight twenty five.

She jumps out of bed, tripping over her blankets and lands face first onto the floor. She groans but doesn't dawdle any longer as she scrambles to her closet pulling out a random shirt and black leggings. She squeezes into her clothes, grabs a piece of gum from Rangiku's purse and kicks on her sneakers without any socks. She snatches her school bag, turning around to see Rangiku still passed out on her bed.

Without another second to spare, she dashes out of her room.

She can't believe this.

She won't make it to her programming class on time. She's late. Well not yet, she's still got one more minute, but she will be. This is bad, very bad. All the front row seats are probably taken by now! Everybody wants them. It's the only place where Mr. Tousen's projection is viewable. She groans, heaving for air when she collides into Uryu. His law book falls to the ground. Orihime stumbles out an apology, sprinting away. She can't waste any more time. She's got to go!

She can't believe she slept in. She doesn't want to blame Rangiku, but it is her fault. Orihime had no other choice but to stay up until the girl came back.

Orihime sighs. That spot beside Ulquiorra is all she can think about. She needs to sit there. She needs to talk to him. She wants to see his face, his raven hair, green eyes, lean build and sharp jaw. She blushes. Why is she getting all flustered? And why is she thinking like this? She shakes her head. She has to focus on getting to class. She shouldn't be freaking out about how attractive the boy is.

The elevator is still out of order. She whimpers, eyeing the endless amount of stairs before her. No. She will not be overwhelmed. She can do anything if she sets her mind to it. With a nod, a mental pep talk and a clench of her jaw, she storms up, two steps at a time. These stairs are not going to slow her down.

Once at the top, Orihime skids across the floor, trying to stop herself from smashing into the wall beside her class but ends up face planting into it anyway. All the students jump, eyes darting towards the door. Mr. Tousen raises a brow, unpleased by her tardiness and dramatic entrance. She can feel her face heat up, but swallows as she walks inside. Her nose hurts.

Everyone is looking at her. She wants to die. She's so embarrassed.

Her gaze dances around the room, searching for a place to sit. She scurries to the front row, wondering whether she will have any luck getting a spot there. She is startled, however; when she sees that the seat right beside Ulquiorra is vacant. Her heart soars.

She huffs, sitting down beside him. Mr. Tousen continues his teaching.

Orihime peeks at the people around her, questioning why no one took this spot. There is no designated seating. It's a free for all. Anyone could have sat here, it's not like this place belongs to her. She glances to Ulquiorra whose attention is locked on his screen (what a surprise). Orihime ponders whether he saved this place for her. He is kind of intimidating, it wouldn't be difficult to shoo people away. She shakes her head though. It couldn't be, could it?

She drops her bag on the ground, shifting the mouse to wake up the computer. When it awakens, she is shocked to see that the software is already up, and it's her file. She scans through her program, astonished to see that everything is labeled, coded and de-bugged. She doesn't remember doing this. She doesn't even know how to do any of it. What is going on? She rests her elbows on the table, her breathing starting to relax from her sprint. Orihime is sure she hadn't done this. Unless someone took control of her body when she was sleeping last night.

Her lips part.

She glances to Ulquiorra who has yet to take a break from coding. He makes an error mistyping something (which has never happened before), but quickly corrects it, pressing the backspace. She thinks his ears are also red, but isn't sure. His hair is in the way.


	3. Chapter 3

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[Chapter Three]

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Orihime waves goodbye to Nelliel and Keigo as she skips out of their sculpture class.

Today is Friday. Her smile widens. Orihime has always loved Fridays, she doesn't know why, maybe because the weekend comes after. Nevertheless, she is happy. She skips down the art hall, makes a right after the blue recycling bin, and then a left past the library until reaching the front entrance of the school. There are a lot of people hustling about, she almost trips over someone's leg but catches herself. Pushing the wooden doors open, the orange-haired girl breathes in the cool air of January. She hops down the stone steps of the building, careful not to slip on ice.

She walks down as perky and joyful as ever, but falters, when she sees a familiar pair of green eyes. They are downcast, and there is a frown on his face. She is too distracted that she doesn't realize that she's missed a step.

She squeaks.

The world around her spins, her bag slides off her shoulder, her hand reaches for the railing but it's too far away, her knees buckle. Orihime clenches her jaw, waiting for the inevitable impact. Two green eyes widen.

Bam!

Chunks of snow ride up the sleeves of her coat and her hands slam down on the cement, rattling her bones. Her knees scrape along the ground, ripping her leggings. Orihime groans, already feeling the bruises she knows she will have, but she gasps when she hears another voice, deeper, grunting beneath her.

She stares, forgetting to breath.

Ulquiorra's face is scrunched up, his back pressed against the pavement. His black hair sticks out like a soar thumb in contrast to the white of the snow. His jacket is falling off his shoulders and his backpack is a few feet away. He pushes himself up, hesitantly, resting his weight against his palms. She can tell he is annoyed by the way he lets out a sharp exhale of air.

When he opens his eyes, however; he tenses.

Their noses touch.

They swim in each other's eyes, not daring to make a move. Orihime takes in the dark of his eyelashes and the widening of his eyes. There is something spilling out of his pupils, crashing through her own and invading her mind. Confusion? Curiosity? Longing?

They both scramble away.

Orihime springs to her feet. She can feel her cheeks flushing, and her heart is beating fast. She places a hand to her chest, hoping to calm it down. For a moment there… Orihime swallows. For a moment she wanted to kiss him. She really did. She doesn't know why, she barely knows the guy. Orihime doesn't think she's ever wanted to kiss a guy before, not as much as she did then anyway. She looks over to Ulquiorra as he bends down to grab his bag. He adjusts his jacket onto his shoulders, and when he turns around, he avoids her gaze.

He stands there, not knowing what to do.

His hands curl around the strap of his bag, his line of sight remains fixated on his shoes and she notices his Adam's apple bob. Finally he looks at her, but only for a second before he snaps his gaze back down.

"Excuse me," he mutters, stalking away.

Orihime doesn't know how long she stares after him, but eventually she gets a text from Rangiku, asking if she wants to go out for tea. She agrees, and walks back inside, her heart thudding with every step.

OoOoOoOoOoO

As the days go by, Orihime learns a few things about Ulquiorra.

One, he is mean to everybody. He is like a walking block of ice. He is completely unapproachable, rude and cold. He looks at everyone as if they are stupid and avoids anyone who tries to start a conversation. He's a robot. A robot without a soul or a heart.

Two, he has no friends. She had asked him one day, quite bluntly, if he "practiced the culture of socialization". He said, "no". And when asked why, Ulquiorra told her that no one has ever been interested in being acquainted with him, therefor he found no point in trying. Acquiring a relationship, he had explained, is a lot of work and causes unnecessary strain on the human mind. She had been baffled.

She couldn't believe he had never had a friend. Never. Not even in primary school, and everyone has a friend in primary school. Orihime remembers, when he had told her this, how her heart had broken. She could feel this overwhelming loneliness in her chest. It was so strong, so powerful, so incredible that she could not draw or paint for the next few days. The feeling was puzzling, alarming. It upset her. She wondered if this was how he felt.

Orihime made it her mission to become his friend, no matter how hard he resisted. She could not live her life knowing that he had never had a friend. Everyone needs a friend, even him.

"What are you doing?" Ulquiorra questions with a blank stare.

Orihime had come to class a whole hour earlier than usual. She wanted to arrive before he did. It was all according to her plan. And she was determined to see it through.

She gives him a smile, blocking the door to their class.

"You are in my way," he says, expression hardening. He attempts to shove her to the side, but Orihime takes a bold step forward, bumping her chest against him. He stiffens, moving back and away from her touch. "I do not know what you are doing but I suggest you stop this very moment."

"I'm not letting you in," Orihime says, raising her chin.

"I would like to see you try," he shoots back, zipping his arm past her, gripping the knob.

The orange-haired girl grins, confident. She grabs his shoulder, keeping her steady, as she levels her height with his. She leans forward, knocking her forehead onto his. Ulquiorra falters, frazzled by her audacity. Orihime steps closer, forcing the boy's hand loose and away from the door. He stumbles, his balance tested. She removes her hand, fire gleaming in her eyes.

"We're skipping," she says, hands on her hips.

"Don't' be ridiculous."

"I'm not." Orihime snatches his forearm. He glares down at her, challenging her to do something else. "I'm taking you out for some pancakes!"

"What?"

"Come on!" She links her arm with his, yanking him down the hall. He attempts to slip away but her grip tightens, almost detaching his limb from his body. "This is going to be fun! You need to go out and enjoy the weather! I always see you sitting around inside reading a book all by yourself. How boring!"

"I do not appreciate your mockery," Ulquiorra says, troubled that he is unable to escape the girl's hold as she forces him down the stairs. "Now let me go. I do not have time for fooling around."

"When do you ever 'fool around'?" She frowns at him. "Never, that's when. So now is the chance to go out for some pancakes with me. I love pancakes, and I know you'll love them too."

"I do not have time for your games."

"Yes you do." Orihime sends him a cheeky grin. "Right now."

"It is inappropriate to skip class."

"Who cares? You're basically a genius at coding, what do you need that class for?"

Ulquiorra is about to bite back a reply, but is unable to when she shoves him out the exit. He stumbles, almost falling and turns around with a frown. He wants to voice is displeasure, he wants to tell her she's being absurd, he wants to tell her that he doesn't like pancakes, or skipping class, or that he has no interesting in being with her, but he can't. The cold wind blows through her hair and the sun radiates off her skin as if she were a rare flower blooming in winter.

He stares, his expression void of any emotion. He doesn't understand why she is trying so hard to be acquainted with him. She always talks to him in class and smiles at him in the halls. She never shows any sort of discomfort or fear. She speaks her mind, unfazed by the remarks he sends back. She is odd. Ulquiorra has not once shown any enjoyment in being her acquaintance, she shouldn't be so optimistic. He always makes it clear, to anyone he encounters, that he has no interest in these things. He has lived through his entire life without the need of foolish relationships. He doesn't understand their significance.

Orihime bumps his arm, motioning him to start walking.

She is a brave woman, Ulquiorra must admit, for her to force him out of the school and boss him into going out for food. No one has ever thought of performing something so ludicrous. Ulquiorra walks with her, nonetheless. He shoves his hands in his pockets, a new sense of curiosity flickering in his chest. This girl is different.

Orihime chats away the entire walk. Ulquiorra is a bit overwhelmed by her unlimited amount of energy.

"I think my favourite flavour is chocolate and banana. It's just so good! I love how the chocolate is warm and sweet and the banana tastes super good when its sliced and drizzled with chocolate. My brother used to get the strawberry pancakes. I never liked strawberries. I don't understand what was so great about them. You know what's weird? My brother doesn't like chocolate! Can you believe that? Who doesn't like chocolate? That's why whenever we used to go out for pancakes he would pretend to barf when my dish came and I would pretend to faint when he stuffed his face with his strawberry pancake—" Orihime laughs. "We were such dorks. Oh well. Life is more fun that way. Hey, last week I was out with Rangiku, my roommate, and we saw this lady—"

Ulquiorra frowns, tuning out her endless rambling. He cannot begin to fathom how this woman can talk so much. He has never heard so many pointless words coming out of anyone's mouth in his entire life.

They reach the pancake place and Ulquiorra is relieved when the orange-haired girl stops speaking as she opens the door. A bell chimes above their head. It's a quaint restaurant. The tables and chairs are made of wood, painted in red, yellow, green, blue and magenta. It's colourful. Ulquiorra can tell Orihime is at home here.

"Orihime!" a woman's voice calls. She is behind a counter, towel drying a plate. "How have you been?"

"Yoruichi," Orihime greets, flashing a smile. "I've been great. How about you?"

"Fantastic," she answers. Her gaze shifts over to Ulquiorra. "I've never seen this guy before," she comments, leaning against the counter. "What's your name?"

"Ulquiorra Schiffer."

Yoruichi grins.

"Nice to meet you Ulquiorra, I hope you've been treating Orihime well." Yoruichi glances to Orihime. "Now is it going to be a table for two?"

"Yes please," Orihime says.

"Sit wherever you want. I'm guessing you want the regular?" Orihime nods. "And what about you? We serve strawberry, blueberry, chocolate, banana, chocolate and banana…" She trails off. "I think that's it."

Ulquiorra hesitates, glancing irritably at Orihime before looking back at the purple-haired woman.

"…Blueberry is fine."

The purple-haired woman smiles, motions them to any table and heads to the back of the restaurant. Orihime points to the spot beside the window. Ulquiorra shrugs, not caring where they sit, and follows the girl to their seats.

Orihime places her bag on the floor and shuffles out of her coat, hanging it on her chair. Ulquiorra has his bag under his seat and chooses to keep his jacket on. He's wearing his whitest shirt today and is not planning on getting it dirty because of some frivolous rendezvous. He sighs, wishing he weren't skipping class. He'd much rather enjoy working on his program than waste time with this woman.

"So," Orihime says, resting her elbows on the table, "what's your favourite colour?"

He stares, frowning.

"If you are trying to make conversation with me, I would suggest starting off with a more intelligent question."

Her cheeks turn the slightest bit red, embarrassed.

"Well," she says, glancing around for an idea. She notices one of her paintings resting on the far wall of the room. She beams. "You see that painting over there?" She points behind him. He turns his head, nodding. "I made it." He looks back at her, raising a brow. "Why do you look surprised?"

"I had not expected you would actually be good in art."

He is blunt. Orihime can feel a sting in her chest.

"That's so mean!" she says, crossing her arms. "Just because I'm not good at coding doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing in my own program! I'm a great artist if I do say so myself."

"That all depends on the person," Ulquiorra states, his gaze averting to the other pieces of art lingering on the walls.

They are all bold. He can guess that Orihime has painted the majority of them. She does seem like the kind of person to use extravagant colours. He has to admit that this girl has quite the talent for painting. She has skill.

One work in particular catches his eye. It is a painting of a person, a boy, he suspects. The boy's features are obscured, however; it is difficult to make out whom it is, unless the boy is supposed to be anonymous. This painting is made up of white, brown, dark blue and green. A lot of green. The green flows throughout the painting with a sense of struggle, as if the artist is uncertain of the colour.

"That's my latest work," Orihime says, resting her chin on her palm. "It took me a while to make. I'm still not sure if it's done yet."

"It is interesting," Ulquiorra mumbles.

"It was actually inspired by you."

He snaps his attention towards her, calculating the expression on her face. He inspired this painting? Him? Ulquiorra Schiffer? He cannot believe that. What could have possibly inspired her to paint such a beautiful piece? He looks out the window when she meets his eye.

She is strange. Very strange.


	4. Chapter 4

.

[Chapter Four]

.

Ulquiorra stares at his computer screen, its light reflecting in his eyes. The air is still, unchanging, his typing the only sound flickering about the classroom. He always comes a lot earlier than the other students. It gives him time to code in silence. Only his thoughts and the computer.

He pauses, his fingers freezing above the keyboard.

His head tilts the slightest bit to his right, glancing at the empty seat beside him. His mind drifts to the woman with bright orange hair. He looks away, confused. He doesn't understand her. There's something about her that wavers his judgment. Ulquiorra has always believed that life was black and white. Those who study for their exams pass, and those who don't fail. Those who care for their health live long lives, and those who don't suffer the consequences. Those who work hard are rewarded, and those who do not have nothing to earn.

But after meeting her there is something inside of him that is changing. He has never felt this way before. He hates to admit it, but it scares him.

All his life he has lived it alone; no one beside him, no one to guide him. His parents were never home, either away on business or too preoccupied to pay him a visit. He learnt how to cook by himself, he completed all his homework on his own and woke up every morning knowing no one would be there to see him off for school. His house had been silent. Always silent. Void of anything. Empty. A mansion full of silver and gold, yet nothing at the same time. His grandmother did live with him, but she was old and could not provide him with anything. She slept all day, never once making an effort to speak to him.

The kids in Ulquiorra's primary school were different than him. They looked different, spoke different and acted different. His family was well-off, much more so than the other children. He was the outcast amongst them. He didn't fit in. He didn't belong. But Ulquiorra didn't care. He didn't know why people needed friends in the first place. He was getting by on his own just fine. Friendships, relationships in general, were pointless.

With this state of mind, Ulquiorra found it easy to push people out of his life. In high school, he discovered that all people were the same. Selfish, ignorant and stupid. No one cared about their education. They only cared about that rock concert in two weeks or the insane party last night. They spoke of fun, pleasure and love as if they were the most important things in life. High school was a den full of lions. Everyone was part of a pack, a group. Each had their own friends. Some even boyfriends or girlfriends, a notion Ulquiorra can't even begin to understand. Why would anyone want to be in a romantic relationship? Relationships meant time, effort, pain and drama. Being alone was easier.

Ulquiorra glances at the girl's seat one more time.

He grunts, annoyed at himself for thinking about something so foolish. He shakes his head. He has codes to write.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"Come on!" Orihime begs as they walk out of class one day.

"I do not have any desire in meeting your friends," Ulquiorra says.

"But they're nice!" She smiles. "I think you'll like them. They're fun, a bit noisy, but still very fun."

"I am not like you, I do not find joy in these things."

Orihime holds back a chuckle, getting used to his way of speaking. His cold tone and blunt replies are actually quite amusing.

"Just see them once. For me?"

She leans into his side, eyes wide and desperate. He doesn't look at her as they make their way down the hall. She doesn't stop her ogling though. He refrains from rolling his eyes.

"Very well," he says, slipping his hands in his pockets.

She cheers, pumping her fists in the air.

"Yay! I'm so excited!" Orihime gleams. "You know my friend Nelliel? The one who's in Fine Arts with me? Well, I've mentioned you to her a few times, actually many times. You pop into our conversations almost everyday, weird, anyway, she's excited to meet you. Oh and so is Rangiku. She's wanted to meet you for a long time. She bugs me everyday it's so annoying but I guess I can see why she's been eager because I—"

Orihime's words get caught in her throat. A door opens, quite suddenly, right in front of her face. She doesn't have enough time to think of moving away, it happens too fast and her reflexes are not the sharpest, but Ulquiorra notices and grabs her arm, pulling her back. She falls against his chest, gasping from surprise. His grip is fierce yet soft. It is controlled, gentle.

"Thanks," Orihime says, letting out a breath.

Her cheeks turn pink when she looks up at him with a shy smile. Ulquiorra immediately lets go, shocked by his actions. He shoves his hand back in his pocket, confused by the thud in his chest.

"My friends are just around the corner," Orihime says. "I told them to meet us beside the cafeteria."

Ulquiorra nods, following behind as she walks around the opened door and leads the way.

When they round the corner, there is a group of people chatting by the window. It's a large group, larger than Ulquiorra expected. Orihime calls out to them, waving, her presence is quickly acknowledged by the crowd. With her signature smile, she tugs him along by his sweater. The looks he receives are a mix between uncertainty and curiosity. He keeps his blank stare, just as he does with everyone else; his emotions masked behind his cool facade.

"This is Ulquiorra, the guy I wanted you all to meet," Orihime says, excitement in her voice.

"Wow!" a busty girl exclaims, strutting forward. "I didn't know your boyfriend was attractive!"

"Rangiku!" Orihime blurts, face turning red.

"No wonder my little Hime keeps talking about you." Rangiku grins. "I always knew she had a thing for mysterious guys!"

"We are not involved in a romantic relationship," Ulquiorra informs, but his stomach flutters, and he's not sure why.

"Stop teasing them," a guy with orange hair scolds. Ulquiorra notices something in the air. He glances to Orihime then to the boy. "The name is Ichigo Kurosaki." He nods in his direction. Ulquiorra does the same, although with hesitation. "Orihime has said many good things about you."

"I'm sure she has," Ulquiorra says, giving the boy a hard look.

When all introductions are complete, Ulquiorra has to agree that the only tolerable person in the group is Sado, which he is incredibly thankful for. Orihime's friends decide to go out for coffee, in which Orihime asks, with a soft voice, if he would like to join them. Ulquiorra tells her that he has no interest in tagging along but is completely cut off when, Rangiku and a guy named Ikkaku, grab his shoulders, forcing him to follow them outside. The two laugh when he struggles.

"Loosen up!" Ikkaku says, rather loudly.

Ulquiorra frowns, shivering. He doesn't have his jacket, only a sweater, and it's freezing outside. He knows he's going to catch a cold, or worse, a fever. He sighs. If he gets sick he won't be able to code. Ulquiorra needs to code. It's apart of his system. Coding helps him think, clear his mind. It's the only thing that makes sense, the only thing that he can control.

Orihime glances up at him, walking to his side when Ikkaku struts away with Rangiku, barking about their drinking plans later tonight.

She shuffles though her bag, pulling out a red scarf and gloves. She pokes his arm.

"What?" Ulquiorra asks, irritation evident in his tone.

"Take these," Orihime says, showing him the knitted material, "they'll keep you warm."

"I do not need such things."

He is too frustrated to accept help from her. He doesn't want to be here, outside, in the cold without his jacket. He wants to be inside his dorm room where it is warm and quiet and familiar and where no one can talk to him. Ulquiorra doesn't go out with groups of people, especially these kinds of people.

He stiffens when she flings the scarf around his neck.

"What are you doing?"

He reaches to take the red thing off, but is stopped by her hand.

"Just wear it," she says, giving him a pointed look. "You're cold, you don't have a jacket and I'll feel bad if you get sick."

She grabs his wrists and drops the gloves in his palms. He glares, appalled by her actions. She always seems to amaze him. Her actions are bold, a little messy, but surprising nonetheless. He grunts, pulling on the gloves.

"They are so cute," they hear Rangiku whisper to a tall, grey-haired boy, Gin, if Ulquiorra remembers correctly. She is peeking over her shoulder, a hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "I knew they liked each other."

Orihime blushes, gaze snapping to the ground. Ulquiorra is alarmed when his face grows warm as well. He raises the scarf higher, his heart drumming in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

.

[Chapter Five]

.

"Have you asked Ulquiorra about your drawing assignment yet?" Rangiku speaks up from her bed, painting her nails.

"No," Orihime answers, looking up from her sketchbook. She twirls around in her chair, facing her roommate. "I don't know if I can. I always get nervous when I think about it. I end up rambling on about something else." She groans, her shoulders deflating. "I don't know what's wrong with me." She tilts her head back, resting it against the top of her seat. "Whenever I'm with him I feel anxious and my stomach gets all twisted. My cheeks turn red and I can't think straight…" Orihime's eyes widen. "Wait could it be—"

"You like him!" Rangiku exclaims, bouncing.

Orihime blushes.

"My little Hime is experience the beautiful sensation of love!"

"But this is different when I used to have a crush on Ichigo," Orihime mumbles, hugging her sketchbook to her chest.

"Yeah a crush. You liked that dorky kid in high school, and that was a century ago! Now we're all older, we've evolved. High school love is puppy love. It's immature and random. This however," Rangiku almost spills her nail polish, but catches it before it falls on her pillow, "this is true love!" Orihime groans, her face burning. "This is quite an interesting predicament. You two are like complete opposites in the educational department, in personality and looks. But hey! Life happens. Quite a unique boy might I add. Dark hair, pale skin, and those eyes! So green! I wonder what his parents look like. Anyway, I know you'll be able to soften his heart! I've been saying it since the beginning!"

Orihime hides her face behind her drawings.

"What do I do?" she asks, shuffling in her chair. "We have class tomorrow and I don't know if I'll be able to act normal. How am I supposed to ask him to model for me without being too obvious about my feelings?" Orihime looks at her feet. "I don't want to seem desperate or make him uncomfortable. It's been hard enough to become his friend… well he says we're more like acquaintances, but I think we're friends."

"Be yourself," Rangiku answers, leaning against the headboard of her bed. She places her nail polish bottle on the nightstand, fanning her left hand in the air. "You are a wonderful girl so you have nothing to worry about. If you do end up worrying, I suggest you take deep breaths, make sure your shoulders aren't slumped, wear lipstick and a tight dress, stick out your chest for extra measure—" Orihime raises a brow, "—and he won't resist! I guarantee."

Orihime keeps her eyes to her feet, unsure of herself. She wants to draw him, but not without his consent. His consent is important. She sighs. She really does like him. A lot. He's just misunderstood. He seems cold, uncaring and heartless on the outside, but on the inside he's uncertain, gentle and lonely. She doesn't even think the boy is aware of his loneliness. He's been alone for so long it has become second nature to him. He doesn't rely on anyone. He keeps everything to himself. Every burden, worry and pain. He carries it over his shoulders, on his own. It causes him strain and emotional distress. She can see the emptiness in his eyes, she can tell he is longing for something more. He's just unsure of what it is, or if he even deserves it.

"Will he agree?" Orihime ponders.

"You never know," Rangiku says. "Nelliel asked Nnoitra and he did it."

"Yeah but," Orihime looks at her friend, "they've known each other for a long time. I've only known Ulquiorra for a month."

"What does time matter to love? I know you two have a connection. I can feel it!" Rangiku gives the girl a smile. "Just ask, you never know, right? It's always worth a shot. The worst thing he could say is no."

Orihime bites the inside of her cheek. She should try. She has to. She's been putting it off ever since the first day she met him. Better take a leap of faith and see how things go.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Orihime doesn't ask him during their next class, or the next, or the next one after that.

She shuffles in her spot, nervous, unable to muster her courage. She groans, angry with herself. She's being childish. It's only an assignment. She shouldn't be making this a big deal. Ulquiorra gives her several looks but doesn't question her odd behavior.

Two days pass.

Orihime tells herself that she will ask him, today, finally, she is ready, and she is prepared. She had practiced with Rangiku for three hours the previous night. She can do it. She's confident. She has nothing to fear. But when Mr. Tousen announces that the class is over, Orihime smacks her forehead against her desk. She couldn't do it.

It's Saturday. Orihime falls on her bed, moaning.

"Why is this so hard?"

"You're making this a bigger deal than it should be," Rangiku says, standing from her bed. She crosses her arms, looking down at the girl. "You have to be blunt. Just go right up and ask him." Orihime squirms, hiding her face in her pillow. Rangiku lets out a dramatic sigh. "You should stop wasting time. Get up and ask him right now."

"But it's the weekend," Orihime says, voice muffled.

"Who cares?" Rangiku struts to the center of the room, a hand on her hip. "This is a boarding school, isn't it? Which means he lives here. Go to the men's dormitory, knock on his door and ask him, 'hey, I have this drawing assignment and I was wondering if you wanted to be my model'." Orihime sits up, her hair falling out of her pins. "It's easy."

"It's not easy," the orange-haired girl says, fixing her bangs. "And I don't even know which room he's in."

"Not a problem!" Rangiku jumps to her purse. Within a second she has her phone in her hand, texting a message. "Gin is like an encyclopedia. He'll know which room."

Orihime frowns. She doesn't want to go and ask Ulquiorra about her assignment, she's too shy. Usually this wouldn't be a big deal, but if Ulquiorra agrees Orihime will have to stare at him for thirty hours. Thirty hours. Thirty! Just the two of them, in silence. The guy she likes. Now that Orihime has admitted to herself (and Rangiku) that she has feelings for the boy, she has difficulty facing him. Her heart beats too quickly, her words get all jumbled. She frowns. Being in love is such a stressful matter.

"Got it!" Rangiku sings. "He's on the fourth floor in the last room to the left. Apparently he doesn't have a dorm buddy. He's got the whole room to himself. Lucky guy."

Orihime's eyes snap up. He's alone? A sensation squeezes her chest.

"I'll go," she says, standing from her bed. "I'm going to talk to him about my assignment."

"Yay!" Rangiku gives the girl an encouraging hug. "I know you can convince him."

Orihime huffs. She grabs her bag, sends her friend a determined nod and stalks out the door.

She stops in front of his door. It's quiet. She can't hear any noise coming from his room. She wonders if he's even there. Oh well, she'll find out. She raises her fist and knocks on the wood.

Silence.

She brings her hand back up again to knock once more, but hears shuffling on the other side. She lets her arm fall, waiting. The knob twists and the door opens. Orihime's cheeks turn the slightest bit pink. She struggles to stay cool. Ulquiorra is wearing a loose shirt and plaid pyjama pants. His hair is a bit messy and he doesn't have any socks on. Orihime can tell he wasn't planning on going out today. He looks much less put together, and more like…well, a normal guy, but not in a bad way. Orihime is pleasantly surprised by his appearance, not that she'd tell anyone that.

His eyes widen when he realizes it's her, but regains his composure just as quickly.

"What do you want?" he asks, eyeing her curiously.

"I—" she pauses. He really does look good. Orihime mentally smacks herself. She can't believe she's thinking about this. And now of all times! He probably doesn't even think of her in that way. "I uh, I was wondering if we could talk… for a bit?" She tries not to cringe at how she formulated her sentence.

"What do you wish to discuss?"

She glances over his shoulder. There is a laptop on his desk, unfinished codes shining off the screen. Maybe it would be less awkward if they spoke inside his room and not in public. Orihime can see Grimmjow and Nnoitra in the corner of her eye and she does not want them interrupting this conversation.

"Can I come in first?"

He looks at her as if she asked the most absurd question.

"Please?"

Ulquiorra frowns, but moves back, pushing the door open a bit more.

"I suppose," he says, although hesitant, allowing her inside. She beams, rushing in and presses the door closed. Ulquiorra takes a few steps away, creating a comfortable amount of space between them. He slips his hands in his pyjama pockets. "Now what do you want?"

"Well," Orihime says, hands clasped in front of her, "I have a favour to ask." She watches as Ulquiorra stares at her, a sense of mild interest in his eyes. "You see I have this drawing assignment. And for this assignment I must put in thirty hours of work." She looks to the ground. "I'm supposed to draw a model, but I can't sketch anyone from my program. I had been searching all over the school for somebody to draw but no one had sparked my interest. Until, that is, I met you." She smiles at him. "And well, I was wondering… I was wondering if you wanted to help me out and be my—my partner."

There. She said it.

Ulquiorra opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He closes it, and then clears his throat.

"I do not understand why you would want me of all people," he says. His posture shifts into one that is confused, small and a bit timid. "I am surprised you are not asking one of your friends, they would be much more fitting."

"But I want my model to be you."

"Why?"

Orihime can tell he is honestly puzzled. He is confused by her presence, her kindness. He cannot comprehend why she would want to spend time with him, get to know him.

Orihime is a natural at making friends. She was born with this gift. But she doesn't want Ulquiorra to think that she's trying so hard to befriend him because it's 'who she is'. She wants to be with him because she enjoys his company, she genuinely likes who he is. She isn't just being polite or nice, she loves talking with him, and she hopes Ulquiorra feels the same way.

She takes in a breath. She has to be bold. Rangiku always talks about how boldness is the key to all aspects of life. So why not, right?

"I want to draw you because I think you're attractive," she blurts, her cheeks red. She's horrified, yet relieved, of her blunt reply. Ulquiorra tenses, eyes widening. Orihime can see the startled blush he is trying to force down. "I've always thought you were the most fascinating person I've ever seen. Your eyes a absolutely gorgeous, your hair is so dark like the night sky, and you always carry yourself in a way that shows your sophistication yet uncertainty. I've tried painting you. I've tried memorizing your face, but I could never get the colours right, not when I couldn't have you there in front of me." She squeezes the strap of her bag. "I want to draw you. Only you. I've never wanted to draw anyone so much as I do now. It's like I'm supposed to draw you. I think you have the greatest body and the greatest face and every time I see you in class or in the hallway or anywhere else for that matter I can't help but stare and wish I could sketch you or paint you or sculpt you or whatever."

Orihime takes a deep breath. She cannot believe she just said all that. She would be horrifyingly embarrassed right now, probably sobbing, but her brain is in overdrive, she cannot think or process anything other than the silence in the room, and the beating of her heart.

Ulquiorra blinks.

"Oh," he says, rubbing a hand behind his neck.

He turns his head away, trying to conceal the sudden colour on his face, but Orihime can see his ears and how they are scarlet.

No one has ever told him, straight up and honest, that they found him attractive.

He doesn't say anything. He can't say anything. No words come to mind. His mouth is dry and his heart flutters. He is puzzled by his body's reactions. He has always been able to oppress his feelings, but with her, everything changes. Ulquiorra has to confess that he is flattered by Orihime's revelation. Very flattered actually, more so than he is comfortable to accept. He isn't sure why he is delighted that she finds him good-looking. He has never cared about appearances before. He cares, however, whenever it seems to concern her. He supposes she has left an impression on him, one he cannot ignore.

"So," Orihime speaks up. At the sound of her voice, something inside Ulquiorra squirms. He tenses, mortified that he is feeling something so—he dare say it—primal. His mind blanks when it happens. He pulls his shirt down, making sure to act casual, over his pyjamas in front of that place. She doesn't notice, thank the heavens. Ulquiorra swallows. "Would you like to be my model?"

He tries to calm down, not sure why his body is getting excited. He has never been excited in this way before. She simply told him he was attractive. Nothing else. He shouldn't be hyperaware all of a sudden. But no one has ever said something like this before, to him of all people. And Orihime of all girls! He doesn't understand how a girl like her would ever think a boy like him would be attractive. She is outgoing, charismatic, fun, charming and silly. Ulquiorra is everything she's not.

He breathes out a ragged breath. His area pulses. He almost lets out a—something—but Ulquiorra shoves whatever sound he was going to make in the bottom of his throat. Goodness. He's utterly ashamed of himself. He mentally curses his body for acting this way. This isn't normal. This doesn't happen to Ulquiorra. Although, he is, of course, a human being, and sometimes certain things happen that he is unable to control. But he should be able to control _this_.

He freezes. It couldn't be that…He looks to the ground. No. It couldn't be. Could it? His lower abdominal area begs to differ. Ulquiorra doesn't experience these feelings, does he? He's pushed them away. He's pushed all his feelings away. He has never liked a girl in his life. He always told himself he had no interested in those sorts of things. Although…

Ulquiorra keeps his shirt firmly over his pants. He scrambles for control. She has asked him a question, any more hesitation and his problem will be noticed. He quickly relaxes the red on his face. He cannot agree to ridiculous request, he cannot be her model. There are so many other people in their school who would be more worthy of such a task. He has to tell her no.

He looks at her.

She is beautiful.

His refusal dies in his throat.

"All right," he says, his voice quiet, wavering, nothing like how he wanted to sound. "I will assist you with your assignment."

Her eyes brighten.

"Really?" She sings, clapping her hands together. "So um, I guess we can head over, I mean after our class on Monday of course, to the drawing studio. If you want." She sends him a smile. "Is that ok?"

"Yes, it is ok."

She leaves soon after, a bounce in her step. Ulquiorra sits back at his desk. He stares at his screen but doesn't feel like coding for once. He crosses his arms over the flat surface and grumbles. He has never felt this way before. Never. Not once. This is insane. His situation caught him by surprise. He shouldn't be fretting. She hadn't noticed. He looks down there. It's still up. Ulquiorra frets. He never frets. But he can't help it. He has never lost control like this. Ever. He has always been calm and composed. But this—he tries to slow his heartbeat—this is the furthest away from being composed.

These emotions have come upon him like an avalanche. They have been falling down a high mountain for a while, and now that they have reached the bottom, they're spilling over and he doesn't know what to do.


	6. Chapter 6

.

[Final Chapter]

.

Ulquiorra isn't able to sleep well the next two nights.

"Are you ok?" Orihime asks him from her desk. He glances at her, not sure what she is referring to. "You look a bit tired."

Oh, she can tell. He's surprised, he always thought his mask was as thick as a stonewall covered in cement.

"It's nothing," he says, his attention back to his computer. "We are going to the drawing studio after class, correct?"

He doesn't want her asking any more questions about his lack of rest. He was stressing out a little (a lot) about his emotions, they were— _are_ unbalanced. He could not keep them under control. He experienced worry, something he has never felt before, and then it led to doubt, which led to fear and then anxiety and then his stomach started acting up and his heart began beating faster and he kept on thinking and thinking about what this all could possibly mean. He tried figuring it out, he tried discerning what was going on, but he was so perplexed, so troubled. He had no clue. Why this was happening? Why wasn't it stopping? Whenever he thought about _her_ he started feeling nervous and confused. All of his anxieties and emotions kept him up at night, disoriented him during his other courses. This restless cycle repeated, over and over again. He tried to calm down, he really did, but he could not forget her smile or laugh, or the way she looked at him as if she genuinely enjoyed his company.

"Yeah we are," she answers. "There aren't any classes in there today, although some students like to go in to work on projects and stuff. Nel hangs out there a lot with Nnoitra. But it's early, no goes there in the morning, not even Nel." Ulquiorra nods, but the girl doesn't stop talking. "You know what? I've had my suspicions for a while, but I think Nel and Nnoitra like each other, but not in the friendship way, I mean the _like_ like way. You know? Whenever I see them together they're always looking at each other in a certain way. It's really cute. Did you know Nnoitra is shy? I never did either until I saw him with Nel this one time. It was unbelievable! Imagine? He was blushing around her so much that even I started to blush! It was actually quite amazing."

Ulquiorra doesn't listen to what Orihime is saying, he doesn't care about Nnoitra or Nelliel, but he can't seem to look away. He has his eyes on her, analyzing the movement of her cheeks, brows, hands and lips. He is interested in the way she shows emotion. She doesn't hold back. Her emotions are plastered on her face, shifting, changing in the blink of an eye, like vibrant colours on a canvas. Fascinating. Stunning. But her emotions aren't a sign of weakness, they express her bravery. She isn't afraid to show how she feels.

Mr. Tousen walks in.

Their class finishes sooner than Ulquiorra expects. He becomes more tense when Orihime begins leading him out the door and down the hall. They walk out of the computer science department, through the main building, and far away from the Karakura College Ulquiorra is used to. No math, chemistry, physics or business. No more equations with simple answers.

He has never been to the arts department. He has never shown any interesting in going there. Art isn't his field.

Orihime talks the whole way there. She is extra chatty today, he notices. Her face is brighter, her smile is wider and her eyes are shinning. Her clothes even look more vibrant. She is wearing her signature hair clips, sneakers, red cargo pants, a thick belt, and a tight green shirt hugging her slim waist and large—he looks away.

She has a nice figure.

Ulquiorra wouldn't be surprised if most of the men in their college knew her for her looks. He has heard several whispers every now and again pertaining to her build. It had caused him distress whenever random boys talked about her in an inappropriate manner. He had glared at many of them as he stalked by in the hall, silencing their gossip. Such fools they all are, they have no respect for women. Children, utter children. Ulquiorra is ashamed that he attends the same school as them. Orihime isn't just a body. She is a human being and she deserve to be viewed as such. She has an amazing personality and outstanding talent for art. She is friendly, outgoing, kind, intelligent, cunning and smart. She is so many things those scumbags could ever hope for, and so many things Ulquiorra cannot comprehend.

"We're here," she says, pausing in front of an open door. The words 'drawing studio' are written on a wooden plaque by the entrance. She walks in and he follows behind. "So this is the drawing studio. It's quite big. It used to be smaller but they did some renovations last summer. I'm happy it's bigger, there's so much more space. Before it was awful trying to set up your easel with twenty other kids bumping into you and knocking everything over. What a mess, anyway, those days are over!" She turns to him. "So," she glances around. "I was thinking of doing some face studies first. I've been dying to draw your eyes, but it's really up to you, you're the model."

"I don't mind."

"Good." She lets out a breath. "I don't really mind wherever we sit, the background isn't that important right now. You can decide. Anywhere is fine with me."

Ulquiorra browses the room. The far wall contains a row of ceiling high windows with a decent sized ledge along it.

"How about over there?" He points in its direction.

"Great choice!"

They walk over, sitting a few inches away from each other. Orihime searches through her bag, pulling out her rather large sketchbook and pencil case. She takes out a pencil, crosses her legs and places the sketchbook at a reasonable angle on her lap. When she gazes at him, there is a serious expression on her face, one he is not familiar with from the girl. Her eyes are sharp, calculating. Every movement he makes does not go unnoticed as if her eyes are a camera, capturing every twitch and pull of his muscles. He feels nervous. This is in her world now. No more computers, keyboards or bright screens. Now there are sketchpads, pencils, papers and colour.

"What should I do?" he asks, her gaze becoming more powerful, almost tearing through his skin, searching for his soul.

"Just look right into my eyes," she answers.

He does so, trying to remain composed, but he has to strain his concentration to do so. Her stare is like a wrecking ball, colliding with the barrier he is barely keeping up. She scans him for a moment before breaking eye contact and sketching quickly on her paper. She examines his face once more and then draws. As she draws he can feel her passion pouring out of her like fire. Her brows are slightly furrowed, her lips are pressed in a tight line and her pupils take in his appearance as if she were underwater gasping for air.

Ulquiorra is amazed, her motivation is inspiring. If she were a painting, she would be filled with all the colours of the rainbow, bright, energetic, spontaneous. He tenses when she begins to lean forward. He is about to comment her on this but she speaks up before he has the chance.

"You've got a bit of blue in your eyes," she says, narrowing her own. "I wonder if I have my pencil crayons." She moves away from him, as he lets out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She beams, pulling out a packet of colourful pencils. "I do."

She furiously scratches on to the paper, biting the inside of her cheek. She peers into his eyes, leaning forward once again. Ulquiorra's chest swells, his breath becoming ragged when he exhales. He squeezes his hands into fists, this familiar sensation exploding all over his body. Why is this happening? What is this feeling? Ulquiorra shouldn't be feeling this way. He shouldn't. He can't. But she is closer to him than ever before. He can smell the scent of her shampoo, watermelon.

He blinks. He hasn't blinked in a while and his eyes are getting dry. She leans in some more. He can feel his muscles freeze and his joints lock into place. He wants to move back, he wants to create some space, some distance, even just a little, but his body isn't cooperating. Ulquiorra has never seen an artist draw a model before, is it normal for them to be this close? Her knee is touching his thigh, her long hair is fluttering against his arm. He can almost feel the warmth of her arm against his own. If he lifted his hand from his lap, just an inch, he would touch her hand, the one holding her sketchbook.

He's losing control of the world around him.

She eyes him for a moment before looking down at her sketchbook. She smiles and flips it over so Ulquiorra can see.

"Done!"

She is leaning further away now, but she is still close. His back is sweating. He hadn't even realized until now.

Ulquiorra glances at the drawing. It is accurate, very accurate. Almost as if she had taken a picture, excluding the pencil marks of course. His eyes though. Is this how she sees them? They are deep, mysterious, green (with a hint of blue) and mesmerizing. Ulquiorra always believed his eyes looked cold, dull and blank. But that is not what he sees in this drawing. There is a story within those eyes, a story of a boy, a lonely boy, who is confused.

"Do you like it?"

"It is very well done," he says, keeping his attention to the sketch.

"Thank you." She giggles. "I'm glad I can finally draw with you sitting in front of me. It's so much easier! Drawing someone without a reference is really hard. But I have to say, you have the most beautiful eyes. I know I've told you this before, but it's true."

He glances up at her.

Her cheeks are a bit pink and her orange hair shimmers in the sun like threads of gold. Her cheekbones pinch the corners of her eyes, slimming their size in a delicate manner. He's noticed that she tends to bloom whenever he so happens to pass her in the halls, or whenever she pops into class a bit late and sees that he has saved her a seat. She doesn't cower in his presence or shrink, she remains tall, strong, confident. She is his equal.

His mask cracks and his pupils dilate, he is terrified when she notices. Her smile softens and she lowers her sketchbook. Ulquiorra doesn't know what to do, he can't believe his facade slipped, and he can't brush it off either. She saw his wall break. She begins moving forward, slow, hesitant, but doesn't stop. He isn't sure what's happening. He stares, transfixed, his hands becoming clammy. Her irises are grey, he notes, but then her eyelids lower and she's pressing her lips against his own. The earth stops spinning and the snow stops falling.

When she moves away, he doesn't say anything.

His heart is logged in his throat yet somehow it's pumping blood faster than the beating of a hummingbird's wings. His mouth is slightly parted, shocked and his eyes widen. Orihime curls a strand of hair behind her ear as her face turns red. He can feel his own face burning too, probably more than hers.

He wants to ask her why she did that. He wants to ask himself why he liked it, a lot. More than a lot. He can't force anything out of his mouth though. He's forgotten how to speak. He doesn't even know how to breathe. His lungs are full of air that cannot escape, his blood is shooting out of his heart and through his veins like bullets out of a gun. He feels helpless, utterly vulnerable because…well.

She glances down at her lap, shyly.

"I like you," she says, voice just above a whisper, "in the _like_ like way."

He doesn't know what to say, well he does know what his heart wants to say, but he doesn't think he has enough courage to voice that out. Ulquiorra is a blunt person, it's who he is. He never has any issues speaking his mind. But it is not his mind that wants to speak this time. He swallows. He's never been in a position like this before. He didn't even think someone like him would ever catch the eye of a girl, of Orihime. Orihime. He's never addressed her by her real name, has he?

"Orihime."

It comes out without his consent, in a breath from the back of his throat, heavy with an emotion he never thought he'd be able to communicate—

She closes her lips over his. A hand curls around his neck and into his hair. He startles back, hitting the wall, but his eyes are shut and his body feels like exploding. Boy, if he thought his heart was beating fast before, well it's surely nothing compared to now.

Her sketchbook falls to the floor as her other hand rests beside him, holding herself up as she leans forward. He grips the windowsill for support when he almost looses balance. Her chest presses against him, her knee bravely brushing the inside of his thigh. She is warm. Her touch is absolutely exhilarating. The feel of her fingers in his hair melts his flesh like hot metal. His arms are shaking and his stomach is doing backflips, he is so inexperienced. He's embarrassed that he is unable to figure what he's supposed to do, but he can't ponder on that worry for more than a second when her hand glides down to his neck. Her fingers cup his jaw, angle his head and deepens their kiss. She lets out a sound he has never heard before, which arouses a sound of his own. She has demolished his mask, and he knows he'll never be able to piece it back together.

—love.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Orihime groans, planting her face on a dark wooden table. Her laptop screen shines down, taunting her. She glances around Ulquiorra's dorm room before landing on the boy himself, sitting at his study, typing away like the coding genius he is. She frowns.

"How are you so good?" she asks, pouting.

"Practice," is all he says, focused on his work.

She sighs, staring at the back of Ulquiorra's head. He has good posture, she realizes, as she slumps even further on her desk. She wonders if he ever gets too lazy at being perfect. She sighs again, longer. He doesn't flinch. She cocks a brow and raises her self in a more comfortable position, piercing the back of his skull with her eyes. She sighs, again, louder.

Still, he doesn't loose focus.

He's good.

Orihime finds a piece of paper, makes a little doodle of a girl and boy kissing, folds it into a paper plane and shoots it in his direction. It hits his shoulder.

Ulquiorra stops typing. Orihime smiles. He turns his head in her direction, glaring.

"What?"

She glances to the paper on floor, gesturing him to pick it up. He gives her a blank look, but after a staring contest, he grunts and grabs the paper plane. He unfolds it. His cheeks turn a bit pink at the drawing. Orihime grins. She knows his weaknesses.

He frowns at her, but the colour doesn't vanish from his face.

"I do not appreciate the amusement you find in this," he says, scrunching the paper into a ball and tossing it into the garbage. "I do not have time for your foolishness." He turns around in his chair. "Do your work."

Orihime doesn't listen to him. She stands from her spot and strolls over to Ulquiorra. She leans down, her lips beside his ear. She doesn't say anything, watching as he messes up a line of code before fixing it, but messes up again. She can hear him swallow and his attempt to regulate his breathing. She wraps her arms around his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" he asks, but his voice hitches.

"You've been coding for the last four hours," she says, his hair rubbing against her cheek. "Let's do something else."

"There's nothing else to do."

"Of course there is. I'm your girlfriend now, I can think of at least ten things we could be doing instead of working on our dumb programming homework."

"Like what?"

"Like," Orihime drawls, her lips brushing against his ear.

He lets out a ragged breath. She glances at his face and notices that his eyes are hooded. Her heart skips. She kisses his cheek, feeling the fire on her skin. Despite appearing put-together, Ulquiorra is quite unsure and inexperienced in a lot of things, like physical contact. She expected him to be knowledgeable in this sort of thing, considering he is nonchalant about everything else, but he is not. This weak side of him has become very endearing. She can't help but marvel at how vulnerable he is whenever touched by her, even when they hold hands!

She steps in front of him, cupping his face. She doesn't kiss him. She just stares. She can't help but want to draw him, but she knows he'd never allow her to sketch him when looking well…like this. He squirms a bit under her gaze, eyes shifting anywhere but her line of sight. The colour on his cheeks spread all the way to the base of his neck, and probably further, but she can't tell because of his shirt. He abruptly stands up when she doesn't do anything and stalks to the middle of the room. He crosses his arms. Orihime admires the red that blooms on his ears and neck. She wants to tell him he is adorable, but knows it will make him feel more embarrassed than he already is.

She waltzed in front of him, her chest pressing against his crossed arms. He holds back a sound of surprise and smacks a hand to her eyes. She whines.

"Hey!'

But he doesn't remove his hand when she tries to pry it off.

"Let me look at your face!"

"No."

"Why not?"

He doesn't answer, but she can hear him groan.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Orihime says, smiling despite not being able to see. "I like it when you're like this."

"I don't."

"Then kiss me."

She can feel him moving closer. He doesn't remove his hand when their lips meet. Orihime places her palms on either side of his face, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. She doesn't need to see to know what he looks like, and pulls him further into her.

.

[Fin]

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Authors Note: I am in love with this pairing. Totally in love. Thank you for the reviews and follows and favourites. Thank you thank you thank you!

Je vous aime, vraiment!

\- I was debating for so long whether to write more chapters (I had a war within myself I swear) but I decided to stick to my original plan and keep it at six. However! Just for you guys, I lengthen this chapter quite a bit instead.

By the way (only if you're interested), my others stories and future stories are/will take place in the same universe as this one. Check 'em out. Again, only if you want. -Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)


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